


Inktober Prompts [2016]

by nyx (ghostedMinds)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Character Study, Childhood Friends, Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-09-09 14:29:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8894236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostedMinds/pseuds/nyx
Summary: 31 Inktober prompts for Kuroken





	1. Fast

Despite knowing Kenma for years, it always amazed Kuroo how fast his mind worked.

When it came to his video games, Kenma was always quick to figure out what had to be done without reading any guide or instructions. His fingers were swift and precise as they moved over whatever console he was using.

Interacting with people, while more uncomfortable, was just as fascinating to Kuroo, watching as Kenma worked his way through a conversation once he got out of his shell. Sharp tongue that could pay compliments, but most times delivered words that had to be consider (remarks that might seemed like an insult on the surface but held a bit more meaning when one took the time to think them over).

But Kuroo was truly enthralled when Kenma used his mind for volleyball. Breaking their opponent apart and finding weakness in the chinks of opposing armor, creating opportunities for their teammates to score, always aiming to keep the connection and the ball in the game.

It was beautiful.

Most annoyingly, or perhaps it was most addicting, was when Kenma turned his eyes onto Kuroo and his mind whirled into action to work Kuroo out. Finding every insecurity that lay beneath the surface, and still finding a way to ease it - or at the very least lessen it.

Such a quick mind that worked so fast to unravel the secrets of the world, and it was always on display for Kuroo to admire.


	2. Noisy

Kuroo grumbled, pulling his pillow more tightly around his head to block out the world. There was a moment of blissful silence before the noise started up again, louder than before. He grumbled again, louder, turning onto his stomach and smashing the pillow over his ears, trying desperately to return to the sweet embrace of sleep.

Again the volume on the television increased, Princess Peach’s cry of joy coming from the speakers. With a curse, Kuroo raised his head and threw his pillow at Kenma’s head. Kenma’s head whipped around, eyes narrowing to glare at the older boy.

“Turn that down,” Kuroo hissed, close to cursing just to further show his displeasure.

Without answer, Kenma turned back to the screen and turned the volume of his game down. Satisfied, Kuroo let his head fall back onto the mattress, eyes closing to chase sleep once again.

Not even two minutes later, the volume increased to the past level, game sounds blaring in the room. Kuroo groaned, pulling the blanket over his head and curling into a ball, cursing Kenma creatively under his breath and imagining drills he could make Kenma do during practice later.


	3. Collect

It’s confusing to Kenma. Collections. He knows that the other kids have collections at home that they treasure; stamps, coins, stuffed animals, different things for different people that all hold some meaning to them, but Kenma has never been able to truly understand the point of them. 

Of physical collections. 

Sure, he has his games, hoarding them to play and distract himself and avoid others, but he wouldn’t be heartbroken if they were suddenly gone. Displeased, sure. They’re entertaining, but he wouldn’t be heartbroken.

However, that’s not to say he doesn’t have a collection. He does, though it’s kept locked away secretly in his mind where no one may find it or steal it, only available for his viewing, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Memories squirreled away to revisit and re-exam whenever he wants, to enjoy on those days when the world seems like too much and just a little duller than other days.

On the other end of the couch his companion jumps up, arms raised and voice yelling out, face split open in joy as the man on the television spikes a volleyball, leading his team to victory. Kenma’s eyes leave his game briefly, drinking the sight of the slightly older boy, memorizing the sudden display of joy, locking it away in his box of memories which centers around that very same boy.

Kuroo turns to grin at Kenma, asking his opinion on the point received. Kenma shrugs before turning back to his game, eye flickering up to Kuroo once more when the boy plops down on the couch with a huff but eyes still alight in glee.

A collection of memories seems much better than any kind of physical collection could.


	4. Hungry

“Kuro,” Kenma stated quietly, walking into the kitchen of their shared apartment.

“What’s up kitten?” Kuroo asked offhandedly, focused on stirring the soup that still had a couple hours of simmering before it would be ready.

“...I’m hungry,” Kenma mumbled after a few beats of silence.

“Hungry?” Kuro asked, gaze turning from the pot to his lover beside him. “Didn’t you just eat.”

Kenma shrugged, eyes cast on the pot so as not to meet Kuroo’s gaze. Kuroo hums in response, eyebrow raised in curiosity but went back to stirring instead of saying anything. A few more minutes passed in comfortable silence. When the stirring is done Kuroo placed the spoon on the plate cast off to the side.

“Go sit,” he commanded, turning and walking to the fridge. Kenma did as told, leaving the kitchen to go sit on the couch in the living room, sinking into the cushions.

A couple of minutes later, Kuroo strode in with a plastic container. Gracefully he sat down, patting his lap when he was comfortable. Kenma cocked his head for a second, eyes watching Kuroo intensely before pushing out of his curled position to crawl the short distance and settle in Kuroo’s lap.

“Open,” Kuroo silently ordered, fork spearing some of the pie inside the plastic container.

Without hesitation, Kenma obeyed, mouth dropping open, a small hum rising from his chest when the day old pie met his taste buds. Eyes slipped shut as Kenma allowed himself to relax against Kuroo’s chest, one of the rare occasions where he was content to be fed.

“Thank you,” he murmured after the third bite, a smile ghosting his lips when a kiss was placed on his temple in answer.


	5. Sad

“Kenma?”

On a park bench, Kenma sat with knees pulled up and arms wrapped around his legs. His face was buried in his legs but it peeked out when hands came to rest on his knees, a voice calling him from his thoughts. Gold stared into amber.

“What’s wrong?”

Kenma shrugged his shoulders, dropping them heavily without much care, brunet hair coming loose to fall into his face where it stayed.

“Is this about me going to junior high?”

With a jerky movement, Kenma shook his head. Amusement shone in Kuroo’s eyes, fingers brushing Kenma’s eyebrow to push the loose strands of hair back behind Kenma’s eyes. His voice remained even as he spoke, not wanting to cause a bad reaction.

“It’ll just be for one year and I’ll always be around if you need me or when your bored and you’ll always be around to set for me, and then next year you’ll be in junior high too and that’ll be that.”

Kenma’s eyebrows pinched, irritation and a slight note of confusion evident in his eyes before he buried his face back in his legs, unwilling to let Kuroo pick him apart anymore. Kuroo gave a small huff of mirth, removing his hands and flopping onto the bench next to Kenma, leaning heavily against the boy and letting his head rest on the provided shoulder, grinning lazily when Kenma tried to burrow further into his legs to escape Kuroo’s tickling strands of hair.

“Come on Kenma. I got my allowance early this week and I want some pie from that bakery down the street. You’re helping me eat it.” Without waiting for a response, Kuroo leaped off the bench and grabbed one of Kenma’s hands, pulling the boy out of his curled position and off the bench. He dragged him out of the park, glad to see that Kenma was now irritated instead of sad. That was much easier to deal with.


	6. Hidden

Hidden behind a mask of carefree behavior and rigorous training, Kuroo hides his insecurities.

The doubts that well up on those rare late nights, that whisper to him about insufficiency as captain, spinning the lies that he’s not good enough, that he’s no good to his team.

Faltering confidence when they lose a match or are met with a team so strong it leaves him breathless.

Imagining whispers against his team, about strength now lost under his tutelage.

Insecurities expertly hidden to keep face as captain even if they drown him once he’s alone. Hidden from all to see.

“Kuro.”

Hidden from all but one.


	7. Lost

"You're getting good at getting lost," Kuroo noted, walking side-by-side with Kenma as they headed toward the gym where the day's practice match was being held.

"Don't get lost," Kenma replied, eyes locked on his phone, letting Kuroo guide him.

"No? You weren't just lost?"

"I was misplaced. The gym changed locations," Kenma explained, tone and face series. Kuroo chuckled.

"Of course. Sorry." Kenma hummed, ignoring Kuroo until the boy demanded his attention again. "And who was the shrimpy?"

"Hinata Shouyou. He plays volleyball."

"Yeah?" Kuroo asked, perking up.

"Karasuno."

"Karasuno." Excitement blazed in Kuroo's eyes.

"Middle blocker," Kenma added as an afterthought, glancing at Kuroo rapidly.

"Karasuno. We play them soon." Kenma nodded and Kuroo's grin spread wider. "This'll be great. Get lost more often Kenma."

"Didn't get lost.

"You did."

"I didn't."

"...You did."


	8. Rock

“Come on Kenma! You can do it!”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

Kenma huffed and glared at Kuroo. “I can’t.”

“You can. Like this,” Kuroo said, walking up behind Kenma and placing his hand over the smaller one. Kenma allowed it as his hand was grasped, fingers splaying over his and wrist tugged back before whipping forward and pressure on his wrist urging him to loosen the hold he had on the small, flat rock.

One skip.

Two.

And a plop as the rock sunk to the bottom of the water.

“I can’t,” he repeated.

“You can. Again.”

Kenma huffed but picked up another rock. He didn’t see why it was so important to learn to skip a stupid rock.


	9. Broken

Volleyball.

Kuroo reasoned that was the only thing to do on such a cloudy day (though Kenma knew Kuroo would suggest volleyball on a sunny day or rainy day or any day of the week that he could get away with playing volleyball). Kenma considered refuting,  but what else was there to do.

An expectant look sat on Kuroo's face, fists resting on hips and an eyebrow raised, silently daring Kenma to find an excuse to not play. A final fugitive glance was thrown down at his gameboy which was broken for all intense and purpose (it had only died but the charger was back at home and Kuroo had told Kenma to bring everything he needed, including only one gaming device, and there would be no returning home for the night. It was a sleepover, one didn't return home during a sleepover until it was over) and sighed quietly.

Volleyball it was.


	10. Jump

Knees bent, muscles tensed before feet rolled forward and pushed, body uncoiling as an arm whipped forward and palm met leather; the volleyball was spiked over the net and threw off the wall of hands that tried to keep a point from being scored.

As Kuroo landed back on his feet, rolling backwards with the motion, a grin split his face. Not for the point scored, though that was celebrated too, but for the rush that jumping and spiking caused. He’d heard people speak of jumping for a ball as flying, feeling weightless in the air before gravity caught up and brought them back down to the ground, but to Kuroo, it had never felt like flying. It felt more like being a cat; reaching, body stretching out before landing in one graceful and fluid motion, much like the mascot of Nekoma high school.

Perhaps that’s one of the reasons he enjoys jumping for a ball, because of the almost feline feeling he gets from it, and the sense of satisfaction when he lands back on his feet without a stumble.


	11. Transport

The sound of skin slapping leather, sneakers squeaking on linoleum, a sharp whistle ringing in the air – all transport Kuroo back to an earlier time.

A time of long limbs and silver hair, of reprimands and compliments and concern all woven together, of a blond mohawks and rowdy personality, of quiet and security, of sharp eyes and laughter lines and command, of flowing blood and circulating oxygen and functioning brains.

The sounds of volleyball, whether a friendly match set up by kids or an official match, all remind Kuroo of third year high school and Nekoma and one of the best years of his life.


	12. Worried

Kuroo Tetsurou is worried.

He's nearly done with school, ready to really go out into the world and do something with himself, to make mistakes and gain life experience. But first, he has one last batch of exams to take and he's been studying for weeks, but these are undoubtedly going to be the hardest exams he's taken to date and if he doesn't pass, it'll be a nightmare. Sure, he's got good grade and he'll pass the class even if he fails his exams, but that's beside the point and Kuroo needs to study more but his mind is getting sluggish and he's just getting so  _ frustrated _ with it all.

It's in this moment when his eyes are engulfed in darkness by smoothly calloused hands, a chin propping atop his head.

"Play volleyball with me?" the quiet voice asks and Kuroo can’t help startling.

The desire to refuse is heavy on his tongue, but with a breath he holds it off. It's rare for Kenma to ask to play volleyball, the possibility of it happening again anytime soon highly improbable. And spiking a few balls would be nice. Kuroo could also use a break...and Kenma is asking.

"Kenma," he says warningly though, he still has to study. No matter how much he wants to play.

"For a little bit. You'll do fine tomorrow, you've studied. Please Tetsu."

Kuroo taps furiously at the papers, Kenma's near pleading tone nearly makes him cave, but it's the shortened version of his name that does him in. With a heaved sigh, Kuroo nods and the comfortable weight on his head is removed. Kenma doesn't move his hands though, instead tugging Kuroo back until he's standing and then finally taking his hands back only to clasp Kuroo's instead.

With a ball worn from seeing too much action and too many years of commission, the couple head out for a little break, exams all but forgotten.


	13. Scared

During a match, when the sound of yells and feet hitting linoleum and leather smacking skin fills every recess of the gym, Kenma can't tell what it is that scares him, but he knows there's fear coursing through his body, right under the adrenaline and excitement - the excitement that he won't confess feeling to anyone, not even Kuroo.

Fear of losing. Fear of getting hurt. Fear of tossing a set wrong. Fear of losing a point. Fear of the attention of the crowd. Fear of the attention given to him by the other team. Fear of disappointing the team. Fear of disappointing  _ Kuroo _ .

No, Kenma doesn't know why he feels fear when they're playing a match, but it's there,  _ always there _ , and it'll be there every time he sets foot on the court and every time he decides to set, decides to let his fingers connect with the ball.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://5917.tumblr.com) |  [commissions](http://5917.tumblr.com/commissions) |  [original story](http://5917.tumblr.com/tagged/%3Bg3)  
> 


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